The State of Georgia
by GKingOfFez
Summary: In a box canyon in the middle of nowhere, the mysterious Operation Alpha is a go and Agent Georgia is right in the middle of it. But the cost of freedom from Project Freelancer is dearer than she thought.
1. New Arrivals

_It's the same story as Unbreakable, just I thought the original was total crap, an embarrassment and desperatly in need of a re-write. And now I have holidays, and am not in the middle of major exams and such I now have the time to re-write it. _

_Plus, since I last updated I have been at the RvBRC, so my OC has gone through pretty major character developments._

_Also, thankyou to Decoy Jew for Betaing._

...

Chapter One: Arrivals

The Pelican landed softy on the hard, dry ground. Its hatch slowly opened and a blast of scorching air entered the space in a matter of seconds. Even the ship's cooling system couldn't hold it at bay.

But he didn't notice.

The ship had landed on a ringed planet in the middle of nowhere.

He didn't notice.

There were two bases, one Red and one Blue, almost directly opposite each other.

He didn't notice.

The place was a desolate box canyon, with no way in or out. The only reason the Red Team had set up a base over there was because the Blue Team had set up a base over here.

If one of the Teams were to pull out and leave, then the remaining Team would have two bases in the middle in a desolate box canyon in the middle of nowhere. Whoopde-doo!

And he didn't notice that either. At least, not until it was too late.

In fact, the blue-clad Spartan he had spent much of the journey staring at the grey military issue seat directly opposite him.

Who knew the most exciting part of a space-ship was the seat?

The door to the cockpit opened and closed with a sharp snap and the pilot of the craft stepped out.

"We're here, Private Church," the Marine said, depositing several used cigarettes in an ash-tray by the door. His features displayed a cool disinterest and impassiveness, all of it directed at his Spartan passenger.

"Yeah, I hadn't noticed," Church snarled in reply.

Throwing his hands up in the air in mock surrender, the Marine returned to his cockpit, closing the door behind him with another snap.

Church sighed, standing up and readjusting his helmet. He watched as the HUD inside the visor started displaying screens and information he couldn't even pretend to understand.

Layouts and schematics for his new base flashed up, along with military profiles.

For a second, he could swear he saw a picture of a fat grey cat with white words above it, saying something about wanting hamburgers.

He blinked, shaking his head and passing off the picture as lack of sleep finally getting to him.

He quickly retrieved his duffel from a compartment above his seat, slinging it over his armoured shoulders. He sent a quick, hesitant glance in the direction of the Cockpit's door, unsure of whether to just leave or wait to be ordered to.

Shrugging, he walked over and smartly rapped three times on the steel, exactly as his father had taught him as a boy. Three knocks was polite, much more polite than simply barging in, the man had said.

It had driven Tex insane when they had been dating.

They had once had a fight over it, which had inevitably ended with make-up sex and her leaving early the next morning. And him finding, several hours later, a considerable amount of cash missing from his wallet.

After exactly a minute of waiting for an answer from the Marine (not that he had counted) he knocked again holding his ear against the frame to see if there were any signs of life from within.

Frustrated at the lack of _any_ response, he pushed himself off the wall and performed a quick one-eighty turn, stalking the length of the ship. He readjusted the bag strap on his shoulder, before carefully stepping down the steep ramp onto the burnt orange ground.

A new assignment. A new base. A new start. That's what "they" had said he needed after the Sidewinder Fiasco.

Away from stresses and dangers of the front line.

When he had never even been within spitting distance of the front line!

_What the fuck am I doing in the middle of fucking nowhere? After Sidewinder I…_

Images of blood stained snow drifted before his eyes, and he shook his head in an attempt to rid himself of the memory of the corpses and screams.

He sighed in frustration, bringing his hand almost instinctively to his forehead before realising, with another more agitated sigh, that he had his helmet on.

Sidewinder.

A blurred figure, nearly invisible, racing across the white. _"This doesn't seem physically possible!"_

Tex.

He shook his head for what felt like the millionth time. _No point getting into that again._

Taking several steps forward in the general direction of his new base, a sudden gust of wind made him turn his head towards a blur making its way _very_ fast in the opposite

direction. An oddly familiar blur…

_Tex?_

No. It couldn't have been Tex. Tex and her precious Omega where… actually, he had no idea where she was.

And he didn't care, either. At least, that's what he kept telling himself whenever he thought of her.

Besides, the blur had been _way_ too fast.

Squinting to try to see it better, he surveyed the shadowed area behind the landed ship.

There was no sign of the blur, and even if it had existed (which it probably hadn't) there was no way anything natural could move that fast.

He shook his head in annoyance and pushed the blur aside into his rapidly growing 'blame it on the lack of sleep' pile where it was greeted by the hamburger cat.

_Now I bet that's something that's never been said or thought before, _he thought, chuckling at his own self humour.

Turning away, he caught sight of a glint of blue on one of the ships side windows, approaching it to find his own reflection staring back at him.

The new set of armour looked good. Still in his chosen colour, cobalt blue, however without the scratches and marks that had covered his old armour from the Sidewinder scuffle.

Underneath the armour, however, he _knew_ that his real body was still there. Still breathing and living past the robotic shell. He knew, that under the helmet, his short, untameable black hair was sprayed across his crown like a mop head. And that, beneath the thick black gloves his annoyingly feminine hands inherited from his mother were there, the nails bitten down as far as possible to reduce said femininity.

Under it all _he_ was still there.

The past was behind him. There was no way it could find him here. He would forget about it. Forget about Tex, and go with the flow.

Finally deciding to start towards his new base, Church noticed that in the time he had been admiring his armour, two people had emerged from said Base. One wore the standard-issue blue he had always hated and the other some sort of teal. He presumed that one of them was Captain Flowers, and the other Private First Class Tucker.

Church groaned as he noticed teal inch towards blue, and thought back to the first time he had been told that his new Commanding Officer was named Flowers. His very first thought was that Captain Flowers was gay,even more so after learning the man's first name: Butch.

And seeing teal's_ very_ obvious body language told him immediately which was which.

At the same time the Captain slowly moved towards whom Church presumed was Private Tucker, the Private himself was subtly attempting to move away from his Commanding Officer.

He sighed.

As long as they weren't as complete idiots he could live with them. For now.

He paused when the ships engines came to life behind him, feeling rather than seeing the craft take off smoothly. He turned to see it airborne, watching the pilot light a cigarette before flipping several switches and blowing Church a kiss, a smug look on his face.

Church barely resisted the urge to lift his middle finger at the man as the ship glided away.

It wouldn't exactly have made the best first impression on his new CO if he had

Grumbling, Private Leonard L. Church turned and continued walking towards his new life.

...

In the shadowed section of the Canyon, a dark figure watched the Pelicans ascent into the sky. For a second, as the small ship turned from a dot to nothingness in the sky it wished it were still aboard, not stuck in some backwater Canyon in the middle of nowhere.

It sincerely hoped that Church hadn't caught a glimpse as it had sped from the vessel earlier.

It had only paused to watch silently its only escape out flew away.

And then, in a streak of gold against black, it was gone.


	2. In the Beginning

_Thanks to Marti for Beta-ing~_

…

The State of Georgia

Chapter 2: Beginnings

Previously:

_In the shadowed section of the Canyon, a dark figure watched the Pelicans ascent into the sky. For a second, as the small ship turned from a dot to nothingness in the sky it wished it were still aboard, not stuck in some backwater Canyon in the middle of nowhere._

_It sincerely hoped that Church hadn't caught a glimpse as it had sped from the vessel earlier. _

_It had only paused to watch silently as its only escape out flew away. _

_And then, in a streak of gold against black, it was gone._

…

"Looks like they're here," the man said with a resigned sigh, watching as the blurred figure disappeared from his view.

The scope of the sniper rifle retracted with a mechanical whir and he removed his eye from the lens. The gun was lowered into a more comfortable position, which was roughly level with his ample stomach.

"_Well that's good to hear, dude," _a scratchy and annoying voice replied, echoing through his helmet radio.

"Looks like Operation: Alpha is a go," he stated, shifting his weight from one foot to another on the grey concrete.

"_Awesome, dude. Let me get on the phone with the big dogs at Command , dude. Tell them the good news and all. I'm sure they'll be very pleased, dude. Vic out." _

The radio abruptly cut, and was followed by static feedback and a sigh.

An orange hand reached up and flicked a small switch on his helmet, and a soft _click _later there was nothing but silence.

"This is it," he said with a tone of finality, "Now or never. And there's no going back, now," he muttered to himself, sighing again.

He seemed to be doing that a lot lately.

"I guess I have to follow this thing through to the very-"

"Grif! Are you up there? Answer me!" a heavily accented voice bellowed, breaking the silence.

Grif groaned, resisting the urge to bang his head against something. Hard.

"Didja fall asleep again? God darnit, I thought I told you last time: keeping watch does _not _mean you make yourself comfortable and fall asleep inside your armour 'soon as I'm gone! Simmons! Get my bucket of red-backed spiders! Grif's fallen asleep on top of the base again."

_Kill me now._

…

1 day later

…

Grif began the steep ascent up the smooth ramp, his footsteps and slight panting the only sounds in the early morning silence.

The brief radio transmission he had received the night before echoed in his head. It had been short and to the point.

"_Rendezvous 0530 hours, Private. You know where."_

The where being the "secret" caves situated beneath the Canyon, and the who being the newest member of his "special team".

The "team" consisted of a man on each of the teams in the Canyon, along with a Central Commander who lived in the caves. The Commander had arrived the previous morning, quickly disappearing to said caves to set up shop.

The same caves he was currently walking towards.

The reason they were there was simple: make sure that everything went according to plan.

"_Become part of the team, and give them a little push in the right direction," _ a gruff Captain had described during the extensive de-brief, _"A man on the inside to help things along smoothly."_

Basically he was there to make sure that all the idiots did what they were supposed to do.

The whole thing was officially known as Operation: Alpha, or OA for short

Originally he had thought of the mission as thrilling; he was practically a spy! But that enthusiasm hadn't lasted long.

Being shipped off to a backwater canyon creatively named "Blood Gulch", dumped in a squad with a mentally unstable Sergeant and the biggest kiss-ass he had ever seen, and told "Good luck!" by a cocky son-of-a-bitch pilot who hadn't sounded the least sincere later, and he was definitely feeling less optimistic.

And, to top it off, the Canyon was the most strategically-confusing and _boring_ place he had ever had the displeasure of living in.

There were two simulation squads living in the Canyon: one designated as red, and the other blue. He was stationed on the red squad.

The blue operative arrived at the same time as him. But in the weeks since they hadn't had much time to talk, being on opposite sides and all. The man wore regulation blue armour and disliked his own commanding officer as much as he hated Sarge.

He had realised why Command had sent all the misfits and retards to Blood Gulch on the first day. The military's worst of the worst, dumped in a hole together, out of everyone's way.

And then they had decided to make it an experiment. See what they could get the poor suckers do. Apparently, they had the whole fucked-up plan thing going. Rumour had it, it somehow involved time-travel, and evil AI and a talking tank.

Not that he had believed it. It _was_ only rumour, after all.

Finally reaching the top of the ramp, he doubled over slightly trying to catch his breath. He breathed deeply, thinking about Kaikaina for what felt like the millionth time since he had arrived.

He hoped she was doing well in school, and not embarrassing herself or the family.

One of the reasons he had accepted the job, was that the military had promised to protect her when he couldn't. They had promised to make sure she made it through school, and didn't drop out like he had.

Another reason had been a chance to get away from the CO of his last unit.

The man had been a veteran from the war with the covenant and had constantly gone on about how he had been had fought alongside Master Chief, and that he helped to save humanity from enslavement.

He had explained, in excruciating detail, every battle he had fought and every Covenant he had slain. By the time Grif had left, he could just about recite each and every one of them. It was a relief to finally get away from the battle-crazed soldier.

A relief that disappeared the moment he met Sarge.

Considering the ramp had only been about 60 feet, he would have normally been surprised that the short trek tired him out.

Before being drafted to the military, he had been a beer-drinking, porn watching, high school drop-out with no future in sight. But the military had changed him. He had begun to realise that he could do more things with his life.

And just before he had been scheduled to move out to the front line, Earth received the news that the Covenant had been completely destroyed.

So instead of being sent to fight Covenant armies, he was sent to a tiny outpost on some small planet, where the supplies were only sent every few months and the CO never shut up.

He had jumped at the chance to get away from that.

Part of the job description had been to appear just as stupid as the rest of them, so as to fit in. So he had brought his porno magazines out of the closet and stopped exercising on a regular basis. After that it had been easy. Act lazy and stupid to become part of the team.

He could do that.

The cave was small and damp, with walls made of red earth. He walked to the back of it, running his hands over the surface of the rock.

His hands found a protruding rock about the size of his palm which stuck out against the smoothness of the stone.

He pushed hard against it, watching it recede into the wall and a portion of the wall silently slide to one side to reveal a tunnel.

He cautiously stepped inside, jumping as the rock slide shut behind him.

The path was steep, rocks littered along it. The tunnelled walls were made of the same red stone as the cave, and were lit by yellow light bulbs which were lined at intervals at eye level along the stone.

He staggered down the trail, using the wall for support.

The ground soon levelled and the walls grew further apart to reveal a great cavern fashioned of brown rock, with a maze of winding passages leading off to rooms and smaller caverns of varying sizes.

On the far edge of the cave, a giant TV screen sat attached to the wall, surrounded by an mass of consoles. The screen displayed snapshots of a familiar landscape.

"Wow!" he whispered in awe, craning his neck to get a better view of the ceiling that hung at least one hundred feet above.

"Ain't it?" a deep, echoing voice replied.

Grif whipped his head around, reaching for his gun and tripping in the same second. He caught site of two armoured people emerging from one of the side passages before hitting the hard ground with a resounding _crash_.

Two sets of laughter filled the cavern as he picked himself off the floor, the skin under his helmet on fire.

"Good one," one of them hiccupped between gasps for air.

"Shut up," he mumbled defensibly, walking over to where the two figures stood, one clutching their stomach and racked with spasms of laughter, the other using the wall for support.

He recognised the blue team operative, his blue armour glinting dully in the shadowed light as he tried, and failed, to straighten up and collapsed into an unstoppable fit of giggles.

The other figure was new, wearing black and yellow trimmed armour and seemed to be holding onto the rough stone as if it were a lifeline.

While the former looked on the edge of losing his feet, the latter sounded strained, almost like he was forcing himself to laugh.

Grif filed that information away for a later date, waiting patiently until the cackles resolved into slight chuckles, then silence.

"OK. So, no that we're are all here…" the new guy began, seriousness returning

"…let's begin."

…


	3. First Impressions

_Thanks to Private Tucker for Beta-ing and TeamKillingFTard for looking over it~_

…

The State of Georgia

Chapter 3: Introductions

Previously:

_"OK. So, now that we're are all here..." the new guy began, seriousness returning_

_"...let's begin."_

…

Tucker stood vigilant behind the new Commander, surveying the shadowed cave for any sign of something out of the ordinary.

Finding nothing of immediate threat, he settled back against the rock wall behind him with arms folded protectively across his upper chest.

"First order of business, guys. What're your names?" the Commander said, turning towards the orange soldier that had just arrived.

"Private Dexter Grif, sir," the red said, coming to perfect attention and saluting.

_Kiss ass,_ Tucker thought.

The Commander seemed to have the same idea.

"Maybe we should lay down some rules," he started haughtily, "First rule, no saluting."

Grif's hand snapped back to his side with an audible _clank_.

"And second, if you ever call me "sir" again, I may actually have kill you. And don't think I won't; I can just as easily blame it on that mental Sergeant of yours," he continued, sounding annoyed.

Tucker snorted.

"Same goes for you, buster," the Commander said, turning his head to look at Tucker.

He scoffed. "Yeah right. You can't blame something like that on Flowers. The damn man's a hippy; he wouldn't hurt a fly, even if it was trying to kill him. Good try, though," he said smugly, readjusting his position against the hard stone.

The Commander stared at him oddly, helmet tilted a little to the right.

For a second, Tucker was afraid that he was going to go off his rocker and start yelling.

"What's your name?" he calmly asked, his tone weirdly lighter than it had been.

"Tucker,' he replied, shifting nervously to try and avoid the intense gaze that the Commander was giving him.

_Oh man, he had better not be gay. Flowers is bad enough. _

"Your full-name, jackass," Private Grif supplied, his words dripping with snark.

"Oh, right. Private First Class Lavernius Tucker, reporting for duty. Nice to meet you, and all that shit," he said, his hand flopping around in a half-hearted wave.

Grif and the Commander exchanged looks quickly.

An awkward silence descended, seeming to last several minutes, but in reality was only several seconds.

"What?" he asked, when the tension reached its paramount and he couldn't take anymore.

"It's just, well…" Grif began, rubbing behind his neck as if the words he was searching for were hiding there. "Ah, hell. I may as well just come out and say it; what kind of name is Lavernius?"

"Well, at least that started off promising," the Commander muttered.

Tucker barely heard him above the dull rage which was pounding in his ears and demanding blood.

He managed to keep his cool, breathing deeply before replying.

"It's _my_ frickin' name. So shut up."

"Ooh, good comeback. "Shut up", that's original," Grif replied, a smirk clearly evident in his voice.

"Guys! Can we try not to resort to violence?" the Commander intervened, stepping between the two, "I'd rather not have to call a medic in on my first day. Do you know how embarrassing that would be?"

"No violence? Who are you, Captain Flowers?" Just the thought of his CO sent a shiver down Tucker's spine.

"Hey, who are you anyway?" Grif asked bluntly.

"Sorry?"

"I mean, we told you our names, but you haven't told us yours," Grif continued, chucking a glance at Tucker for support.

"He's right," he added shrugging his shoulders.

"Fine. Fair's fair, I guess. You can call me G," G said, calmly, his arms returning to his side. "And I must say, it's good to know I'm not going to be alone in this stupid canyon."

"Yeah, great to meet you too," Tucker said slightly sarcastically, returning to his post against the wall.

He may as well get comfortable if they had only just finished introductions, god knows how long the actual meeting would last.

"G? What the hell does "G" stand for? And what's your rank?" Grif inquired.

"I'm a Freelancer," G stated as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"A what-a-er?" Tucker said, frowning.

"A Freelancer, dumbass. It's a secret program or something," Grif declared, smug at knowing more than Tucker.

"Right. I am Freelancer Georgia, g'day and all that. Now, let's get on with this meeting, boys."

_Yup. He's gay. _

_Damnit!_

"Dude, did he just call us boys?" Grif asked, facing Tucker with disgust evident in his voice.

Georgia scoffed, "Did you just call me he?"

With that, G lifted his gloved hands to his neck and found the clamp that tightly held his helmet in place. With a strong yank, it came free, and the helmet was lifted away to reveal-

Tucker felt his jaw drop to a level even with his belly-button.

_Well, at least he's not gay,_ he thought, partly relieved and partly in shock.

Several feet away, Grif was having a similar reaction, but by the sounds of it with more choking noises.

"Stupid Voice Filter. Don't even know why Command even gave it to me. No use for it in a bloody canyon in the middle of frickin' nowhere," G said, voice softer than before.

Beneath a crop of evidently freshly cut dark hair, Agent Georgia smiled briefly at Tucker who was fighting for words.

"Wait, but… you… you're a-a girl!" he exclaimed as if such a thing were unheard of.

_Maybe this whole thing won't be so bad after all. Bow chicka bow wow._

"Oh, gee, I hadn't noticed. Thanks for pointing that out," she replied with a small laugh.

One of the first things he noticed was that the laugh, short and seemingly forced, didn't quite reach her eyes.

In fact, the eyes themselves seemed dull and lifeless, as if all the energy had been sucked out.

It was then he noticed other things: the remnants of deep purple circles under her eyes, feebly hidden with a scant layer of poorly applied make-up.

The brief smile that had appeared with the laugh, and faded far too quickly to be genuine, left the bottom part of her thin face doing the impression of an upside-down quarter-full moon.

He found pre-mature wrinkles, once again inadequately hidden, and he could swear he spied wisps of grey hair sticking out amongst the black mass.

He frowned, turning away before Georgia noticed his staring.

He wasn't quite quick enough though, and she gazed at him suspiciously before replacing her helmet, removing a slotted chip from the back before re-clamping the helmet in place.

Grif hadn't seemed to notice any of that, instead staring, inconspicuous, at Georgia's chest area, probably wishing he had x-ray vision.

"OK, so, now that everyone's been introduced, and we all understand each other, we should probably get on with this thing," G said, almost casually as if nothing had happened.

"Officially, we have been assigned to Outpost 1A, also known as Blood Gulch, with orders to assist Command in controlling the actions of the inhabitants of Blood Gulch Outpost Alpha and Blood Gulch Outpost Number One. Of course, unofficially, we all know we're here for baby-sitting duty."

Grif and Tucker nodded, glancing at each other.

"You know our orders, gentlemen. So let's get to it. Are there any questions?"

"Yeah, I have one. Do you know exactly what's going to happen? I mean, I know Command has this whole thing planned out, but the report I received was a bit… vague. On details, I mean," Grif explained.

"What like the hinted time-travel?" Georgia replied casually.

Tucker intervened, "Yeah, exactly. Is time-travel even physically possible? Because if it did, I don't think they'd waste it on this stupid Canyon."

"Exactly," Grif agreed.

"I've been ordered not to say a word, guys. I don't see why, though. I know about the same as you guys, maybe a tiny bit more," G said thoughtfully, "The time-travel problem, however, I'm pretty sure I know how they're going to it," she said.

"How?" Tucker asked.

"Are there any more questions?" Georgia said, ignoring him and waiting several seconds before continuing, "No? Okay. Return to your bases, guys. Otherwise the others will wonder where you've got to. And we can't have that, can we?"

Georgia waved them off, turning and entering a tunnel to her left, shutting the rock door behind her with a sharp click.

Astonished at the abrupt ending, Tucker stayed where he was for several minutes, mouth opened a little.

"Wait, what?" he said under his breath.

Grif sighed. "I guess I better go," he said, glancing at the giant television before continuing, "If Sarge finds out I snuck out, he'll make me do laps of the base._ Again,"_ he added, muttering as he turned and trudged back up the steep path to the surface.

Tucker followed slowly behind, his mind mentally examining the meeting from the minute he had arrived, to the unexpected ending.

He lingered on Georgia's exposed face, the unhealed pain sticking out like Flower's homosexuality.

He'd seen that expression once before, albeit on a less extreme scale. It was the look of defeat, with plenty of desperation mixed in.

He'd seen it in his mother when he was twelve, right after his father had slammed the door behind him for the last time, not even bothering to look back.

It had only gotten worse from there, with his mom turning to Jack Daniels to drown out her sorrows. Tucker would often return home from school to find her drunkenly passed out on the couch. It climaxed from drinking at home to public, crashing their only car while in a drunken binge. That particular incident had almost cost Tucker his home; child services very nearly putting him in a foster care system.

He'd never seen his mother so defeated and helpless than he had during that tough time.

That was exactly what he saw in his new Commander's eyes. Something had happened, maybe even several things, each of them wearing her down until she became a desperate wreck.

All he knew, as he slipped through the stone doorway and into the entrance cave, was that whatever it was was behind her.

He only hoped that she knew that.

…


	4. Nightmares and Memories Part 1

_Finally, after several long months of procrastination, it's done. And in two parts._

_Second part will be out next year. :)_

_Thanks to Marti for Betaing~_

…

The State of Georgia

Chapter 4: Nightmares Part 1

Previously:

_All he knew, as he slipped through the stone doorway and into the entrance cave, was that whatever it was was behind her._

_He only hoped that she knew that._

…

Sometimes, things happen that are beyond our control. They aren't our fault, simply unfavourable circumstances that could happen to anyone. A fool would call this fate.

Agent Georgia was no such fool.

...

2 weeks later

...

Georgia twitched. Tears tracked down her cheeks, mingling with a sticky layer of shimmering sweat that soaked clothes and sheets alike.

Visions and images burst before her eyes: the blur of grey through a cracked visor, the smell and taste of blood, fresh and coppery in her nose and mouth, and of running, running far enough and fast enough she almost believed she could make death and consequence eat her dust.

A memory can be a terrible thing. For you never truly forget what you already know.

…

_The blow landed, cruel and hard, against her left shoulder, the armour's shock-absorbers kicking in to take most of the force . She rolled with it; teeth bared, and shrugged off the sting it brought while simultaneously avoiding a right hook._

_Her enemy doubled his efforts, physically pushing himself, and she longed for the combat knife that had been knocked from her hands only seconds before. It lay out of reach several metres away, another knife and two pistols keeping it company._

**You should have shot him when you had the chance!**_The deep, cruel sounding voice of her AI echoed in her mind, barely disguised anger and annoyance evident in its voice. _**We wouldn't be in this situation if you had have just listened to me.**

_G sighed. She'd had the thing five minutes, and _already_ it was starting to piss her off._

Oh, shut _up_, Beta, s_he thought at the voice, blocking a blow with her forearm._

_The room turned into a blurry grey streak, as short bursts from her enhancement helped her to manoeuvre around her opponent. The air whipped past her as she danced, dodged and blocked to no effect except making herself extremely dizzy._

**Jeez, I was only trying to help. You **_**do**_** want my help, right? **

The image blurred, a grey mist forming and shifting around her, and suddenly she was somewhere very different…

"_You _do_ want my help, right?" she asked, arms folded, leaning against the wall, a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth as she surveyed the small group of people in front of her. _

_There was something wrong. The whole situation was wrong. These people were wrong. _She_ was wrong._

_Wrong because she had neither said nor done any of those things. And yet, she felt it, all of it: the concrete hard against her back, her arms warming themselves against her chest, even her mouth moving to form the words she was not saying._

_It was almost as if the world had been turned upside-down and was slowly being ripped apart around her._

_She was trapped, in every sense of the word. Encased in the impenetrable shell that was her body, a prisoner, doomed to only watch as events she had no control took place around her. Everything was so goddamn wrong!_

_And it all came back to _him_._

_She saw, through eyes she had no control over, Arizona and Oklahoma glance at each other, then at Texas, who stood as the forefront of the trio as the ringleader._

Okie! Zona! Tex!_ She screamed, trapped in her own head._ It'snot me. God, help me, it's not-

_**Oh, shut up, you're ruining my concentration,**__ came Beta's voice, almost lazily, full of triumph, and she felt a heavy silence being forced upon her._

_Beta. The one thing in the world she thought had understood her. And, as it turns out, the biggest son-of-a-bitch ever created._

"_We could use her, you know," she heard Zona mutter uncertainly to Tex._

"_Yeah, and her enhancement," Okie agreed, looking up and down Georgia's armoured body._

_She felt the smile upon her face widen._

"_Well, if you can use me, then let me help," Beta said carefully with her voice, addressing Tex, "No offence, mate, but your infiltration team seems to be… lacking in several aspects. Specifically, manpower and firepower," he finished off with a glance at Okie and Zona and the standard-level pistols they were carrying._

"_Offence taken, _mate,_" Tex said, her expression unreadable through her helmet. "And do you really think I'd be stupid enough to try and infiltrate one of the most heavily guarded facilities in the universe with just three people?"_

_The smile became wider still._

"_Of course not."_

...

Georgia rolled to the edge of her bed, leaving a long, wet stain on the sheet where the sweat had soaked through.

She started mumbling, indistinct and half-formed words escaping her lips.

...

The mist descended again, a confusing blur of colours and shapes…

_Her adversary grabbed her from behind. _

"_Take that!" she mumbled, lashing out in retaliation, and managing to shake him off with an elbow to the stomach._

_He staggered back, winded, but not for long. Enraged at the minor setback, he lunged at her, and G barely avoided being crushed by someone a bit less than twice her size by side-stepping. He crashed to the ground, yet still managed to spring to his feet almost immediately and send a punch her way._

_The fight continued along this vein for several minutes. _**Left, left, right, block uppercut, right, dodge, speed away, block, **_Beta was saying in a continuous string, a note of panic now in his voice…_

_And then she was running, fast and low, along a familiar corridor, the trapped feeling returning and the same voice, once so helpful, whispered threats and empty promises in the darkness of her mind._

**It'll be over soon, I promise,**_ Beta murmured, stopping her body to peek around a corner, gun raised and the safety off._

_G stayed silent, having given up hurling every single insult she knew at the AI half an hour previously._

**Come on Georgia, talk to me,**_ he said in a creepy voice that echoed in her mind. If G had been in control of her body at that moment, she would have shivered. _

**Oh, come on, you **_**know**_** that all this is necessary? Right? You understand, now, come on G, **_Beta coaxed, and she (would have) shivered again._

_Yes, she did understand. She understood everything that she was too stupid and blind to understand before. She was just a pawn in a much bigger, much more important plan. And Beta didn't care if she lived or died, as long as she served her purpose before she did._

**Now that's harsh. That really is. What makes you think that I don't care for your life?**

…

"_What the hell is going on here?" G heard someone say. She glanced over at the grey steel door and was surprised to see a tan armoured soldier staring back at her in his own surprise. _

"_York, hel-!"_

_**LOOK OUT!**__Beta yelled desperately, but it was too late._

_Smash!_

_The fist came out of nowhere. She had no chance. All she could do was watch in horror as the gloved fist smashed straight into her helmet, cracking and splintering the apparently unbreakable visor. Bright light and pain attacked her eyes and she felt herself flying backwards._

_Time slowed down, and it seemed to take an age before the ground finally caught up with her. A dull buzzing filled her ears and something sticky ran down her cheek._

…

_Blood trickled slowly from a bullet wound in her shoulder. She ran through the grey clouds of dust, debris and flying bullets that were thick in the air, firing her own gun over her shoulder every few seconds in an effort to stop her pursuers. _

_It was chaos in its finest form, ghostly shadows of people running in every direction, whether friendly or not she didn't care at that particular moment._

_All she cared about was getting as far away from this place as she could, as quick as she could. There was nothing left for her._

"_Retreat, I repeat, everyone retreat," came Tex's voice over her helmet radio, the sounds of heavy breathing and small explosions echoing through the speakers, "the objective is not here. It's been moved, repeat, the Alpha has been moved, everybody retreat."_

_There was a particularly loud bang and the radio cut off. To her left, part of the wall exploded and massive chunks of flying concrete were flung in several different directions. But she was already well clear of the debris by the time the first hunk of stone hit the ground._

_She just kept running, corridor after corridor thick with dust and debris, not caring that several people, possibly including Agent Texas, had just died in that explosion._

**And why should you?**_ Beta whispered._

…

_A shadow fell across her, blocking the light and allowing her to open her eyes. Blinking back blood and sweat, her heart felt like it skipped a beat as hands came into place around her neck and her rival leaned closer to her._

"_No," she managed to gasp before the hands tightened and she screwed her eyes shut again, not bearing to look at the person who she once believed as her friend as he squeezed the life out of her._

_A blur of sounds and colours came next: someone yelling her name, a bright blue light shining through her closed eyelids, strange thumps and crashes coming from somewhere close by, and all the while the sensation of falling through the air, twisting and turning surrounded by welcoming blackness until-_

…

_She was running, faster than she'd ever run in her life; her legs burned, her arm was numb and tears blurred her eyes, but still she ran._

_Freedom was just 100 metres away, she could smell it. The boundary, a section of the wall blasted apart and surrounded by a mass of different coloured armour (most of it the dull grey of the security) was in reach._

_She dodged through the battle, bullets flying past her, grenades going off left and right and centre and all the while people falling to the ground, never to move again. _

_She was almost there, the rubble remains of the apparently impenetrable wall passing beneath her, and she took a flying leap._

_YES!_

_She was free! _

_People were yelling behind her, guns were firing, but that was all a memory, now. She was free. She was-_

_Her back erupted in a molten wave of pain, and she stumbled, landing face first on the dusty ground, her breath heavy._

_All she knew was pain, so hot it was cold, numbing and beckoning her into the darkness that was poking at the edges of her mind._

"_Are you all right! I'm sorry, I've never shot anyone in my life!" An unfamiliar voice said from a long way away. "Are-are you alive?"_

**You were so close… **_Beta's voice said, echoing,_ **but not close enough. **

Enough, enough, enough…

_It was never enough._

_For a single second the world seemed to stop. All the air was pushed from her lungs at once and her eyes flung themselves open in horrified confusion._

_If things had been wrong before, then it was nothing compared to how wrong they were now._

_And yet, the battle, strangely muffled, raged on. Bullets flew, bodies dropped and shit blew up._

_But something was missing. _Beta _was missing._

_It took a second for her to understand what had happened, and another to realise that she was writhing on the ground, screaming in pain and clawing at the helmet covering her head. The realisation it only made it worse, and she screamed louder, the volume of pain increasing._

_Everything hurt. Her back hurt. Her arm hurt. Her head felt like it was splitting itself open from the inside._

_She lost herself in the pain, slipping into the heart of the fire. She wanted to die, then and there. But death was not feeling merciful at that moment, and she simply sunk into painful darkness, still screaming and writhing…_

...

_Thump._

"Ow! Son of a bitch."


	5. Nightmares and Memories Part 2

_5/01/11 EDIT: Added new ending. Didn't like the old one._

…

The State of Georgia

Chapter 5: Nightmares Part 2

…

Georgia pulled herself into a sitting position, using the camp-bed which she had most recently occupied to lean against as she rubbed her aching shoulder.

"What the fuck?" She blinked several times, her vision blurry around the edges. It took her several moments to remember why she was lying in the dark, much less covered in sweat and lying on the floor with a shoulder that was bound to bruise within the next few days.

She closed her eyes, a headache playing at the forefront of her mind. The same headache that had been plaguing her for the last two weeks.

_She must have fallen out of the bed… _

That was new. Well, sort of new. At least, she hadn't fallen out of any bed in a while.

_Unless you count that time during training when-_

"Stop rambling," she muttered to herself. What was it her father used to say? _Talking to yourself is the first sign of madness. _

_Bring it on._

She shook her head fiercely. She wasn't at that point.

…anymore.

She closed her eyes again, trying to focus on the dream which had somehow made her fall from her bed.

The dream had all but faded, as dreams do, leaving nothing but teasing remnants in her mind that were slowly slipping away like sand between her fingers.

She concentrated on them, the grains of sand, the tiny details.

_The last thing I was doing in the dream was…_ she screwed up her eyes in concentration.

…_lying. I was lying face first on the ground. _

She imagined the scene, closing her eyes: _soft sunlight warming her back and birdsong in the air. A blade of grass poked into her nose as she breathed in the smell of the earth, fresh and green. She sighed contentedly._

But that didn't seem right, so she tried again.

_She took another breath and nearly choked as thick dust clogged her nose and throat. Then the dust was gone, and her breathing instead became harder. She opened her eyes to find herself staring at the HUD of her helmet, warning lights flashing red and a shrill alarm crackling through a broken speaker. Her back was hurting so much, she couldn't move for the pain._

G suddenly wished she hadn't tried to remember the dream.

She was on her feet so fast she barely remembered how she did, but that didn't matter. Breathing heavily as if she had just run a race and sweating again, she felt a sick feeling rising in her throat and covered her mouth with her hand.

One second she stood there, pale and swaying where she stood, and the next she was gone, coming to her senses and launching herself at the door. Pushing it open, she flew down the stone corridor outside the door, coming to a stop in front of an innocuous patch of wall. She pushed in a protruding rock, watching as the wall slid aside to reveal a bathroom, complete with shower, toilet and sink.

She rushed over to the toilet, lifting up the seat and kneeling in front of it and heaving her mostly digested dinner into the bowl. She waited until the last of the foul-smelling concoction of peas and carrots (why was there always carrots in vomit?) before flushing and stumbling over to the sink to wash her mouth and hands.

Memories had done this. Not dreams. Not by-products of a twisted imagination. Memories, worse than any nightmare imaginable.

And she had quite a few.

Absent-mindedly, she ran a hand over her shoulder, feeling the skin on her back where it was bumpy and rough. There, she knew, was a collection of scars, lovely mementos of her latest near-death experience of being shot in the back.

_Running far enough and fast enough that she almost believed she could make death and consequence eat her dust…_

It was lies. All lies, for Death was always lurking around the corner and Consequence always looming over your shoulder.

She moved her hands to her face, tracing a short scar next to her right eye where a shard of broken visor had very nearly won her bragging rights over eye injuries with Freelancer York.

She gazed at her reflection in the mirror, barely recognisable from the one she remembered. Her hair was longer than it had been in a while, reaching her shoulders. Even in the semi-darkness (she had forgotten to turn on the lights) the grey strands stood out against the black. Dark shadows festered under tired brown eyes that would have looked at home on a corpse, and several other small scars from the broken visor were scattered here and there.

She ran her fingers through her hair, watching it fall back into place in the mirror.

So much had changed in the last few months. She was a completely different person from before. Who she used to be seemed nothing more than a distant memory, fading away.

_I was Sam. Daughter to Darren and Leanne Adams. Motorcycle enthusiast. Good with numbers._

She sighed. She'd stopped being Sam a very long time ago.

_I was Georgia. Training partner to Washington. Vehicle specialist. Serial number 95980._

She turned away from the mirror, not bearing to look at her reflection any longer. All it did was remind her that life was a bitch and death was no better.

_Who are you now?_ A little nagging voice whispered at the back of her mind, but she silenced it. She'd stopped listening to voices in her head ever since Beta had taken over her body for his own needs and then left her for dead.

She scoffed. It was funny how it had only been a few months and she could already think about it like it didn't matter.

It did matter, of course. It mattered a hell of a lot. The next time she came across that little bastard, forget guns and knives, she was going to rip him apart piece by _fucking_ piece.

He had manipulated her from the first minute, twisting her thoughts and feelings to his advantage. Everything had been a lie with him. Lying, cheating and double crossing.

And the worst thing of all? She had been too self-involved, too _blind_ to see what had been happening right under her nose.

Her hands clenched themselves into fists and she scrunched up her face to stop the tears spilling from the corners of her eyes.

But at least one good thing had come out of that situation. She knew now, that AI's, _all_ of them, were bad news. They were nothing but ticking bombs, aimed to take as many people down with them as possible.

That's why Freelancer had been a failure.

There were no AIs in Blood Gulch, thank God. No AIs to fuck with her mind or cause trouble, because that's all they did.

Especially that Epsilon.

_Epsilon._

Also known as Bastard No.2 or "Another AI I Would Like the Pleasure of Ripping to Pieces With My Bare Hands," which was a mouthful, so she always went with the first one.

Truth be told, she never found out the whole story of Epsilon. One minute, Wash was completely normal. The next, completely insane and attacking her. She barely made it out of there alive, much less fit for duty. It was weeks before she was cleared medically and even more until she was cleared psychologically. She'd never seen a shrink before in her life before then.

But she should have realised at the time that it didn't matter. None of it mattered and she shouldn't have cared for Wash. Or Jersey. Or even Maine.

Operation: Alpha was an escape, in all sense of the word. She had cut off all communication to everyone she used to know (all her family knew was that she had gone on an extremely long and secret mission and wouldn't be in contact in a while) and was not only paid (albeit not much more than she got being a Freelancer) but got free food and had a whole cave to herself.

And all she had to do was babysit a couple of soldiers fighting a pretend war. It wasn't much different from her brief babysitting job she had when she was a teenager.

On the downside, she was stuck in a Canyon in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by people who the military had decided weren't worth the time and effort. It was lonely, especially seeing as the only people she could talk to… well.

Private Tucker had noticed, somewhere between their first and second meeting, that she was, in his words, a 'chick' and had been coming onto her non-stop since. He had said something about "Keeping in practice," which left her with no doubt why he had been chosen to 'fit in' with the inhabitants of Blood Gulch.

At least Private Grif didn't keep slipping innuendo into every other sentence, but that was a small mercy. Every conversation she had with him seemed to end in him complaining about the CO of his team (who apparently had it out for him) and her having flashbacks to her time before Freelancer when she had been in a Marine Unit and her CO always called her 'Probie' even after a good four years.

Those had been good times.

Hopefully there were more times like those to come.

_Tomorrow's a new day: anything is possible. The past is behind me. It's time to let go._

And so she did, exhaling deeply and feeling a large weight lift from her chest. She looked at herself in the mirror and smiled her first genuine smile in months. It was wonderful.

…

Tucker and Grif noticed a substantial change over Georgia at their next meeting. The dark shadows had faded from under her eyes, her skin looked healthier and she was considerably more cheerful.

"Hey," she said happily, beaming at the pair of them as the door to the surface slid shut behind them. "I realise we haven't really had time to get to know each other between hurried meetings and brief radio calls."

Tucker and Grif exchanged bemused looks under their helmets.

"So, who wants a tour?"


	6. Home Sweet Home

_So, ten months later, here we are. I'm not as happy as I could be with it, but it'll do._

_Thanks to Des for Beta'ing~_

…

The State of Georgia

Chapter 6: Home Sweet Home

"Hey," she said happily, beaming at the pair of them as the door to the surface slid shut behind them, before getting straight to the point of why she had called them there on such short notice. "I realise we haven't really had time to get to know each other between hurried meetings and brief radio calls."

Tucker and Grif exchanged bemused looks under their helmets.

"So, who wants a tour?"

…

Georgia clapped her hands together, giving her two subordinates a wide and toothy grin.

They glanced at each other again, not sure what to make of this new development.

"Uh… okay?" Grif said uncertainly, his confusion mounting. This hadn't been in the job description. What the fuck?

Georgia's smile widened until it seemed almost unnatural. "Awesome!" She squealed, spinning on the spot and swaying a little, before skipping off in the general direction of a large table set in the middle of the cavern.

"Georgia, are you drunk?" Tucker asked incredulously. They both approached the table at a much slower pace, removing their helmets as they went, to find half a dozen empty cans of beer strewn on, and around the table to answer his question.

"Are _you_?" She replied, raising her eyebrows from the head of the table where she had settled, swinging on the cheap plastic chair. Grif suspected she was being deadly serious.

"I would if I could," Tucker sighed, and Grif knew all too well how he felt. He'd only been in the canyon a few weeks, and already he was starting to feel the slight itch in his left eye he had come to associate with not being very far off from going berserk and killing everyone in sight.

"Hey, you wouldn't happen to have any more of those, would you?" He asked, pointing to the empty cans hopefully. "Because I swear if I have to sit through one more of Sarge's staff meetings…"

"Nope. Sorry." G shook her head wildly, the dark hair whipping in and out of her face. She giggled, and shook her head again, only stopping when a dizzy expression crossed her face.

"Damn. Worth a try, dude," Tucker said, chuckling slightly and looking at G like she was crazy. "You know, you should get drunk more often. You're sort-of hot when you're wasted. Bow chicka bow wow!"

Grif groaned. "Oh for god's sake, don't start that again!" He growled, "Remember what she said last meeting?"

Tucker winced, obviously remembering. "I believe the key message of that conversation was 'I hope you're not planning on having kids'. But that's the point, she _said_. You don't actually think she'd do it, do you?"

Grif frowned. He did have a point. In the fortnight he'd known Georgia, she'd threatened Tucker several times, but had shown no indication at all of following through with the threat. What kind of Freelancer was she?

"And besides," Tucker continued, "look at her, she's pissed out her mind and in no fit state to do much of anything."

There, he had another point. Grif turned to look at the object of their discussion to find it rocking backwards and forwards in the plastic seat and giggling like there was no tomorrow.

"I'm sitting right here you know, listening to _every_ word," she said in a sing song voice.

"Yeah, we fucking know," Tucker said with a smile, and Grif noticed the man's eyes following G's every movement.

"Oh, I _know_ you know," she replied with a suggestive smile, and both Tucker and Grif almost fell out of their chairs in surprise.

"I've changed my mind. You're not sort-of hot drunk, you _are_ hot drunk!" Tucker yelled, looking gleeful for some reason. "Bow chicka bow wow!"

"Oh dear lord," Grif muttered under his breath, looking around desperately for a way to change the conversation, otherwise he would probably be stuck listening to Tucker's bad innuendo for the rest of the afternoon. Man, that guy could be an idiot."So, anyway!" He shouted over G's fresh wave of giggles and another 'Bow chicka bow wow!' from Tucker, "G, what were you saying about a tour?"

"Of course!" She shrieked, making Grif actually fall out of his chair, as she jumped to her feet pointing her finger in the air and looking like she was about to shout 'Eureka!'

"Wonderful idea, Grif. Why didn't I think of that?" G cried, completely unfazed by the odd looks both men were giving her. Grif and Tucker once again exchanged looks, as she yelled, "Follow me!" and then she was off, skipping away from them again.

"Seriously dude. What the fuck?" Tucker asked, as Grif scrambled to his own feet and both men made to follow the skipping Freelancer.

"I have absolutely no idea."

Georgia didn't go far; she stopped by a patch of wall that looked like any other, except for a small perturbing rock which she pushed in and a section of the wall slid aside to reveal a door sized hole. Both men were unsurprised at this; a similar mechanism guarded the entrance to the cavern.

"So it's a secret door within a secret cave? Are they serious?" Grif muttered as they approached. Tucker said nothing, but Grif saw the roll of his eyes in his peripheral vision.

"Ok, this," G gestured to the door when they were close enough to hear, "is the entrance to the Maze. I have no idea why it's here, or what it's purpose is, and it's not very hard to get lost in, so I've managedto deduct that it's here for decoration." She giggled once again, swaying more so that Grif had to hold out a hand to steady her. "Although, one time I took a wrong turn for the bathroom at night, and I had to-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, too much information!" Tucker interrupted, throwing his hands up to show his obvious disgust. Grif silently agreed, all the while simultaneously trying not to let his imagination run wild and stopping the female Freelancer from suddenly becoming a lot more acquainted with the floor.

"So, basically," Grif said hurriedly, so that Georgia wouldn't have a chance to finish her little anecdote, "This thing serves no tactical or strategic purpose. Then why is it here?"

"Beats me," the Freelancer shrugged, latching onto Grif's hand and pulling him away from the door. He yelped slightly as she did, suddenly aware that this was the first physical contact of that kind he had had with a girl since… shit, he couldn't even remember. And his sister didn't count.

"Hey, wait up!" Tucker cried in annoyance, running after them. Georgia was taking very determined strides, pulling him away from the still-open doorway of the Maze and towards another seemingly innocuous patch of wall a small distance away from it.

"Here!" The girl cried, stopping short of the wall and letting go of Grif's hand. Tucker quickly joined them, puffing slightly, as the door slid open to reveal a short corridor with several open doors leading off on each side.

"What's this?" Tucker asked, "What are all these rooms for?"

"This is where _I_ live," G said, grinning like mad and spreading her arms as though to say 'Ta da!' This was supposed to be his superior officer?

"Where you live?" Grif asked, scratching his head. "I don't understand."

"What, did you think I slept on the floor, did you? Do you know how uncomfortable that would be?" She giggled.

"It'd be hard," Tucker supplied, a manic grin in place on his face, "And do you know what else would be hard-?"

"So what, this is where you sleep and stuff!" Grif half-yelled to drown the Blue out. Tucker was really starting to annoy him. Not as much as Sarge did, but still enough that it set his eye twitching like it was doing the Macarena.

"Yup. There's a bedroom, a bathroom, a kitchen, a laundry room and some storage area," G listed, counting everything off on her fingers.

"So basically, everything you need to live," Grif stated. She nodded, taking his hand in hers again and started steering him away, once again leaving the door open and Tucker behind. Grif heard him sigh and mutter something, but didn't quite catch it due to the speed at which Georgia was pulling.

This time she led him over to the huge television screen which dominated much of a wall, the same screen which Grif had noticed the first time he had been there. It constantly flickered between landscape scenes of the canyon above, and the two bases nestled opposite each other. One flash showed him a picture of Sarge working outside, tinkering around with the bottom half of a robot and another of Simmons in the mess. Luckily, they hadn't seemed to have noticed his absence yet.

"Here," the Freelancer cried, stopping abruptly in front of the screen and letting go of Grif's hand. Tucker, who had been jogging to catch up again, didn't have enough time to stop and came thundering out of nowhere to crash right into Grif's back.

"Ow! Watch where you're going, asshole!" Grif yelled indignantly, rubbing his armoured shoulder.

"It's not my fault you stopped!" The teal soldier retorted angrily, rubbing his nose.

"Boys!" Georgia yelled, and they both turned to stare open mouthed at her. "No fighting." She put her left hand on her hip and waggled one of her fingers at them, inexplicably reminding Grif of his mother, except for the fact that she was good deal smaller and less intimidating than his mom. It also reminded him of their first staff meeting, before G had revealed herself to be a girl, and had said something similar. Did she think they were children?

Georgia's expression suddenly changed to one of childish delight and she laughed at them. The screen flickered again behind her, and into view came the head and torso of a man with brown hair wearing a grey and yellow uniform, who laughed as well.

"Whoa, what the hell?" Tucker cried, taking a step back and moving a hand to his pistol holster.

"Dudes, you two are both totally whipped, you know? She just owned you completely, with the whole 'No fighting' thing, bros," the man said, completely ignoring Tucker.

_Is it just me, or does that guy sound familiar…? _Grif thought.

"Wait a minute, " he said out loud, "I know you. Aren't you that guy from Command who's our liaison, or something?"

"Yes, that would be me," the man replied, "Name's Vic, and FYI, I'm not actually a guy. Hey that rhymed!"

"What do you mean, you're not actually a guy?" Tucker asked, looking disgusted. "Please tell me you're not wearing one of those voice thingies as well."

"Ew, gross, no," Vic replied, looking equally revolted. "Can you imagine me as a chick? What I meant was that I'm not actually human. Duh."

"He's a computer program. An A.I.," G chipped in, looking extremely pleased to be a part of the conversation where before she had simply looked as though she was daydreaming, "Artificial Intelligence," she added at both men's blank looks.

"Ah. Wait, but I thought those things were really expensive?" Grif said, frowning. Why would Command waste one of their expensive toys on a backwater simulation outpost like Blood Gulch? That didn't make any sense.

"Wait, so you're telling me that all this time we've been getting orders from a fucking computer?" Tucker said, looking irritated.

_Well duh, idiot, _Grif thought, sighing.

"Hey! Just because I'm a computer, doesn't mean that I don't have feelings, dude," Vic said, looking suddenly angry.

"Wait, but you _don't_ have feelings. Like you said, you're just a program on a computer. How can programming have feelings?" The teal soldier argued, and Grif could feel a full blown debate coming on from his tone of voice. He sighed again, and Tucker shot him an annoyed look.

"It's just a figure of speech, _dude_," the A.I. replied, sounding a little more than pissed. "And they probably can if they're programmed to, you asshole.'

"Okay, maybe we should move on now," G interrupted brightly, looking completely unaware in her drunken state of the storm that was brewing between the Tucker and Vic. She bounced in front of the screen and took a hold of both Grif and Tucker, one on each arm, and pulled them both away to the right. "Bye Vic!" she yelled cheerfully behind her back.

"Bye G-hot-dudette-chick!" He said back. "See ya, dudes," he said a little sarcastically to the men, and when Grif looked back he saw that he was giving Tucker's retreating back the finger.

"Isn't he nice?" G said cheerfully, still completely oblivious to the narrowly avoided argument.

"Yeah, nice isn't_ quite_ the word I would use," Grif replied.

"Same here," Tucker interjected, "He seems like an asshole. How the hell do you put up with him?"

Georgia looked put out. "Why don't you like him?" she pouted, "He's nice to _me_."

"Yeah, but you're a girl,_ everyone_ likes girls," Grif scoffed.

G opened her mouth to reply, a furious expression on her face, but Tucker got there first.

"Oh, would everyone just shut _up_," he snapped, obviously still angry at Vic, "Seriously, can't we just go a few minutes without arguing with each other?"

There was a moment of silence, in which Grif stood, frowning.

"I can't believe I'm going to say this, but I think you're right, Tucker," he said seriously.

"I am?" The blue said, looking taken aback.

"Yeah," Grif admitted, putting on a thoughtful expression, "I mean, if we're going to spend god knows how long here, then we need to learn to live with each other. And I don't think that's going to happen if we're constantly at each other's throats. So… how about, from now on, no more fighting or bickering or getting on each others nerves or anything like that. What do you think?"

"I think you're a fucking pussy, but all right," was Tucker's response.

"Oh, you asshole."

"What?" The blue grinned playfully, "You said that we're not allowed to fight anymore, so I took the last opportunity I could to insult you before it was forbidden."

"Oh for god's sake! What about you, G?" he said, extremely irritated as he turned to the Freelancer, who seemed to have once again entered a trance-like state while the men bickered.

"What about me what?" she said, starting and looking extremely confused.

"Weren't you listening?"

"No, I was thinking…" she replied in an offhand voice.

"You're pissed out of your mind! What could you be possibly thinking about?" Tucker exclaimed with a laugh.

As soon as he said it, however, Georgia's bottom lip started to tremble, and the next thing Grif knew there were tears rolling down her face and she was sobbing into her hands.

"You asshole, now look what you've done!" Grif cried, gesturing awkwardly towards the distraught woman.

"It's not my fault!" Tucker yelled, looking uneasily at the Freelancer, a strange look splashed upon his features.

"Oh it so is!"

"Is not!"

But Grif was never able to yell back his equally childish response, as Georgia's knees suddenly gave way and Tucker had to race forward to catch her as she crumpled.

"I'm sorry, guys!" she wailed, as Tucker gently lowered her to the floor. "I thought I could handle it, I thought that if I just tried to forget and let go, that it would all go away! But it didn't!" she sobbed, while Grif and Tucker exchanged looks for what felt like the thousandth time that day, this time full of worry.

"What the fuck is she talking about?" Grif asked, concerned.

"I don't know, but I've seen something like this before," Tucker answered, and Grif saw something in his face that seemed quite at odds with what he had come to know about the teal soldier. When before he had seemed immature and idiotic, now he looked worn and worried. It made his face seem years older than it was.

"What? When?" was all Grif could say, to shocked at the change to form any other coherent words. But before he could reply, Georgia was speaking again.

"I'm useless, aren't I?" she moaned, "That's why I've been sent here, because _he_ couldn't think of anything else to do with me and just wanted me out of the way!"

Grif, having no idea who _he _was nor why the Freelancer was suddenly acting this way, bent over awkwardly and patted the woman on the head. "There there," was all he could say.

"What the hell are you doing?" Tucker asked, eyeing him like he was crazy. Grif noticed that he was kneeling on the ground next to Georgia, and that he had one of her hands clutched in his own.

"I'm comforting her, what does it look like I'm doing?" He snapped back.

"Being retarded. That's not how you comfort a crying girl!"

"Oh yeah, and I bet you've had lots of experience comforting crying girls," he said sarcastically, "Probably right before you took advantage of them." He pointed to the linked hands, his expression clearly showing his disapproval.

Tucker looked at him with wide eyes. "I'm not going to take advantage of her! I mean, sure, any other time if a crying and needy girl had fallen into my arms, I would have swooped on her like a vulture, but just not _this_ crying and needy girl."

"What? Why? You barely know her!" Grif exclaimed, his confusion mounting.

At that moment, Georgia's head lolled to one side on the ground, and a great snore escaped her lips. They both watched her silently for a few minutes, to make sure she was surely asleep, before continuing their conversation.

"Because…" Tucker hesitated before carrying on, avoiding Grif's gaze. He had yet to let go of the Freelancer's hand, the orange soldier noticed. "Because she reminds me of my mom. Go on, laugh."

Grif blinked. "What the fuck?"

"I know it sounds weird and fucked up, but when I was young, a heap of shit happened and my mom… sort of went a little crazy." He pointed at the sleeping woman's face, at the faded dark shadows and the dotted scars. "My point is, that I noticed the same look in her that I saw in my mom around that time. She's seen shit, Grif. Lots of shit," he ended seriously.

"So, what do we do now?" Grif asked after an ominous silence, attempting to sound optimistic after Tucker's statement.

"What else? Take her to her room."

Grif gave him a critical look. "What, to her bedroom? Are you absolutely certain you're not trying to take advantage of her?"

Tucker just rolled his eyes. "I just told you something deeply personal, and you turned around and-and-"

"Calm down, I was kidding."

The truth was that Grif never really looked at Tucker the same way again.


End file.
